


Little moments

by LostinFic



Category: Broadchurch, Secret Diary of a Call Girl (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:09:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostinFic/pseuds/LostinFic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of little moments between Hardy and Hannah. No plot or chronological order, each chapter can be read on its own. The only narrative thread is these two loving each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tarantism

**Author's Note:**

> Tarantism - The urge to overcome melancholy by dancing.

 

 

Hannah walked down the stairs to the living room where she found Hardy staring out the window. She knew without asking what preoccupied him. It had been a year this week since Joe’s acquittal and closing the Sandbrook case. A bittersweet anniversary that caused these spells of melancholy.

Hannah cleared her throat to get his attention, reluctant to intrude on this moment of reflection. He smiled at her, barely so, and pulled his hands out of his pockets which she took as an invitation.

Hannah wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. She wanted to try every trick she knew to make him feel better, but she’d learned to be patient. Trying to pry open his soul only made him clamp shut tighter.

“Sorry for being so… me this week,” he said.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Thanks for being here.”

Hardy kissed the top of her head, and started slowly swaying from side to side. Hannah followed the movement, it had the calming quality of floating on the water with the added benefit of Hardy’s warmth enveloping her. She only understood what he was doing when he moved his feet.

“Are you dancing?”

“I– Will you just turn?”

“It’s not turning, it’s dancing.” She poked him in the ribs, and he finally cracked a proper smile.

“So?”

“Fine by me, I’d dance a bloody polka if it could cheer you up.”

“Maybe later.”

He tightened his arms around her, and they danced to no music at all, for no reason at all, and it was everything they ever wanted.


	2. Freelancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hardy reassures Hannah after she's had a shitty day

“Arsehole!”

Alec peered at Hannah over his mug.

“Not you, the editor,” she explained. “He refused my article.”

She’d worked all week to meet the deadline, but it wasn’t good enough for them apparently. It was her third rejection this month. This freelance thing was harder then she’d thought, even with two best-sellers under her belt.

Before succumbing to the urge to throw her Macbook across the room, Hannah joined Alec at the kitchen table. She stole a half of his toast and a sip of his tea.

“Did they say why?”

“It lacks depth,” she said with air quotes.

“Ouch.”

“No, but seriously, what does that mean? ‘Lacks depth’. I’m not after the fucking Pulitzer.”

“You’ll do better next time.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at the platitude. She’d been really proud of that piece on the withering sales of independent sex shops in the age of online retailers. Everyone is always going on and on about record stores and bookshops, but the same was true for sex shops. Who better to suggest the whip best suited for beginners or the perfect G-spot stimulator? She’d interviewed two owners and quoted both Durkheim and Simone de Beauvoir.

“Maybe send it to another paper?” He looked at his watch. “I’ve to go to work.”

Hannah pouted. It wasn’t her usual reaction, she enjoyed having the house to herself during the day, but right now she just wanted to cuddle in front of a movie with him or maybe brainstorm ideas for her next short story.

As Hardy bent down to kiss her goodbye, her mobile rang.

“Oh, fuck, it’s Jackie.”

“Give it here.”

“Really?”

Hardy took the mobile out of her hand.

“Hannah’s phone… Hi. No, she didn’t forget… yes Jackie. Mmhmm. Yeah she knows. No, you don’t need to check, she did it. Give her a little credit, for god’s sake… Okay, bye.”

“Thank you.” Hannah hugged his waist.

“You forgot to buy your mum a birthday gift.”

“Shit!”

“You all right?” he asked as she didn’t let go of his waist.

“Yeah, yeah. Go.”

 

After he’d left, she made herself a cup of coffee and settled behind her computer again. She stared at her draft for ten minutes, until she felt like she might cry. She closed the top with more force than necessary. She picked up her mobile and scrolled through her contacts. She still had several escorting associates in there. In the old days, she would have found a client within the hour, put on her Belle kit, and she would have felt wonderful. Of course, she was romanticizing the past. In reality, she would have met some overweight lawyer in an ugly hotel. He would have come on her face and complained about his wife’s sagging tits as he pulled his trousers up over his bulging belly.

So Hannah resorted to her second favourite activity: shopping.

 

She came back home with an armful of bags and a gift for her mother. It had cheered her up, but Hardy called to say he had to stay late at work, and she ate alone with an episode of _House of Cards._ By the time he came back, she was halfway through the second series, curled on the couch with a blanket.

 

As he removed his jacket and tie, he stole worried glances at her.

“What’s wrong with you today?” he asked, at last.

“I don’t know. I got called ma’am at the shop— not miss, ma’am. You know what that means. And you should’ve seen the shop girl’s face when I said I wasn’t looking for anti-wrinkle cream.”

“You don’t look old. You look… your age.”

“Is that really the best you can do?”

 

Hannah kicked off the blanket and went into the bathroom. She tried to chase her worries away like she did the suds on her skin. She didn’t want to go to bed moping. She didn’t want to wake up feeling out of sorts and dreading the day ahead, the rejection letters and general life crisis.

 

When she came out, he was already in bed. She laid down next to him, staring at the ceiling as he read. She hoped he would put down his book and ask her again what was wrong.

 

The words slipped past her lips just as he’d started drifting off to sleep: “What if being a whore, is all I can do?”

“Don’t be daft,” he said without opening his eyes.

“Right.”

After a moment, he turned on his side to look at her. Even with the glow of street lamps outside her window, she couldn’t see his face well enough to discern his expression.

“You can do a lot of things, you’re smart. Just give it time,” he said.

“You’re shit at giving advice, you know that, right?”

She turned her back to him, but he was having none of that and turned on the bedside lamp.

“Do you really believe that?”

“Yeah, all you do is say those—“

“No, I mean, do you really believe being a call girl is all you can do?”

“Sometimes. Why d’you think I was saying that for? Because I needed attention?”

“You’re so dramatic sometimes.”

“Thanks, that really helps.”

She pulled the duvet higher over her shoulder.

 

“C’mon, Han. I thought you were just having a bad day.”

“More than one.” She mumbled.

“You’re so talented, I didn’t think you really doubted yourself.”

After a moment, Hannah finally turned around to face him. She nudged a leg between his, and he put an arm around her waist.

“What can I do?” he asked.

“Nothing, it’s just me. I’m terrible at this freelance writing thing.”

“You can’t be good at something new right away.”

“I know.”

“Even the first time you had sex you told me it was a disaster.”

Hannah buried her head in her hands, still cringing at the memory of sending the condom flying into the boy’s eye.

“But you’re trying,” Hardy added, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s… that’s something. Not many people can say that. It takes a lot of guts.”

“Yeah? You think I have _balls_?”

Hardy chuckled. “And you know what? Sometimes it’s just the world that’s shite.”

He knew a thing or two about that.                                                                                              

“Yeah? It’s not me?”

“Not you.”

She smiled coyly. “Because I’m amazing?”

“Exactly.”

She cuddled up to him, resting her head on his chest, and he stroked her hair gently. “You really are,” he whispered between two kisses on the top of her head.  

“And what do you do when the world’s shit?” she asked.

Hardy gripped the bed sheet and pulled it over their heads. “We hide away.”

Hannah burst out laughing at this rare display of silliness from him. A bit of light filtered through the cotton, and she could see him smile.

“I love you,” she whispered.

“Even if I’m shit at giving advice?”

“You’re good at other things.”

“Good enough?”

“More than good enough.”

“I love you too.”

In the dark, her mouth found his and hands slipped under t-shirts. She held him tighter, stroking the soft skin over his ribs. She’d never thought of someone’s body as reassuring before. Perhaps it came from the familiarity, like a favourite book, comforting in its predictableness and no less loved for it, but increasingly appreciated with every reread.


	3. All in all

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hardyrose asked: gossip is swarming Broadchurch about Hardy's new girlfriend. All is hypothetical until they're caught red-handed.

Hardy looked up from his computer screen to find Hannah standing in his office doorway.

“What are you doing here?”

“Brought you lunch.”

Hardy frowned, she wasn’t the type to cook for him.

“Well, bought you lunch.” She held up an M&S plastic bag.

“That’s more like it.”

 

He removed his glasses and stood up to greet her properly, but he noticed his coworkers trying to casually peer into his office.

“Bloody rubberneckers.”

 

Hannah’s arrival in Broadchurch a week ago had people talking like only small town peeps could. She was younger than him and way out of his league. Speculations abounded as to the nature of their relationship: sister, mistress, witness, prostitute.  Of course, Hannah loved to provoke these rumours as evidenced by her see-through blue blouse— not that he was complaining.

 

They sat down on the leather couch, and ate salad out of the same plastic bowl. She pricked a piece of chicken with a fork and guided it towards his mouth. He batted her hand away.

“Stop it, everyone’s watching.”

“So?”

“I’ve a reputation to maintain.”

“Right, they can’t find out you’re actually nice.”

“Exactly, they’d lose all respect for me.”

 

She poked him in the leg with her toes, and he almost cracked a smile. He caught her ankle and brushed his thumb over her skin. He dropped it when someone knocked at his door. SOCO Brian had a report for him, he looked between Hardy and Hannah, obviously expecting an introduction.

“Anything else, Brian?”

“No, I don't think-"

“Bye.”

Hardy closed the door almost right in his face.

 

“That was so rude,” Hannah said with a laugh. “I’m beginning to think you’re ashamed of me.”

“Erm, well, it’s not— I’m not, erm, you know…”

Hannah stared at him, biting back a grin, as he stammered. His voice reached a higher octave.

“I’m not ashamed. It’s none of their bloody business. What would I say anyway? ‘Hannah she’s my— my’…”

“Your what?”

He sighed. “Help me out, here, Han.”

“Nah, you’re right. I was just taking the piss.”

 

She’d been one of his best friends for many years, but after his divorce, their friendship had taken a not-so-unexpected turn into more intimate territory. He didn’t get the feeling she wanted to be his girlfriend, and he wasn’t ready to dive into another relationship no matter how much he cared about her.

 

She averted her eyes and ate the last of the salad in silence. Hardy looked out his office window and saw that a group had gathered around Brian. _Great._

 

“Well, I’d best get back home and let you work.”

He walked her towards the exit, she didn’t say anything, not even to tease him. He stopped dead in his track about mid-way there.

“Wait,” he said.

“What is it?”

“You’re upset.”

“No, s’like you said, we’re not— I don’t know.”

He took her hands in his. “We are something. There is a ‘us’.”

She squeezed his hands and took a step closer to him. “Yeah.”

“Good.”

She took another step closer. “I want you to know that, well, even if what we are isn’t official or anything, I want you to know that there’s no one else for me. Okay? Only you.”

Hardy rested his forehead against hers, too overwhelmed by her words to say anything. She knew what he’d been through with Tess. 

Hannah stroke his scruffy cheek as his hands settled on her hips.

“You all right?” she whispered.

He could only nod. She splayed her fingers over his chest, right where his heart beat for her. He swallowed thickly.

“Right now, you’re… you’re everything to me.”

 

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he hugged her back. How lucky he was to have her. He’d go mad, get swept off by waves of guilt and anger, but she kept him afloat. He held on tighter.

 

“Alec, I really, really want to kiss you right now.”

He chuckled and looked over her shoulder.

“This way.”

 

She followed him to another corridor. He unlocked the door to an interrogation room as Hannah gawked at him. She sat on the table, and hooked her fingers in his belt hoops to pull him between her legs. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. An urgent kiss full of wet moans and grasping fingers.

 

A knock made them jump apart. It hadn’t come from the door. He looked around, and the blood drained from his face at what he saw: Jenkinson, Harris and Huxley behind the one-way mirror. And Miller, waving at him with a smug little smile.


	4. the interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah helps Hardy prepare for an interview

“You got a haircut!” Hannah said when Hardy walked into the house.

“That bad?”

“You look great.”

She ran her hands through the shorter strands the way he liked, and he couldn’t resist kissing her. 

He parted from her with a sigh. As she finished putting away the clean dishes, he removed his jacket and tie.

“I figured it would look better for the interview.”

“Have you ironed a shirt?”

“I’ll do it later.”

He sat on the couch and looked at her with a smile.

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

He shrugged. The interview was mostly a formality at this point, but after been declared “the worst cop in Britain”, he did everything he could to better his odds.

“I can help you prepare,” Hannah offered.

He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Have you ever passed an interview?”

“Some. A while ago.” Granted, she got her first jobs by flirting, still an interview was all about marketing yourself to a potential employer. It was a different kind of seduction, but a seduction nonetheless.

Hannah sat astride Alec.

“I don’t think the chief superintendent will sit like that.”

“Hush. I’ll take off one item of clothing every time you answer a question…” She pecked his lips. “ _Without_ rolling your eyes or being sarcastic.”

“I’ll try,” he answered although he was humouring her more than expecting to get something out of this.

“Okay, first question: tell me, Mr. Hardy, what would you say is your greatest strength.” She mimed taking notes.

“My greatest strength is that I’m dedicated to my work.”

“Give an example. When you answer that kind of question, it’s best if you support what you say with a concrete example of something you did.”

“An example of my dedication? I nearly killed myself over solving the Sandbrook case.”

Hannah cupped his scruffy cheeks tenderly. “Maybe take it down a notch.”

“Aye. Okay, in the Danny Latimmer case there was… maybe I shouldn’t mention that investigation.” He ran his hands down his face with a heavy sigh. Now he was nervous.

Hannah apologized.

“I’ll think of something better,” he said. “Keep going.”

“Well, the follow up question is usually about the greatest weakness, but maybe not this once.”

He shook his head and gave it some thought. “My greatest weakness is a pretty blonde with too many clothes on.”

Hannah laughed, and he tugged at the hem of her camisole.

“C’mon, there was no eye roll, no sarcasm,” he insisted.

She held the hem of her top with her arms crossed and pulled it up over her head. She had a way of doing that with a roll of her hips and torso that was simply mesmerizing. He kissed her ribs and between her breasts, but she slipped back into her interviewer role.

“Now, Mr. Hardy, when you say your greatest weakness is a pretty blonde, do you mean just any blonde or one in particular?”

“Well, Miss Baxter, I mean one in particular.” He gave her waist a little squeeze and whispered: “no eye roll, no sarcasm.”

He thought she would remove her socks next, but of course she went for the bra. How did she expect him to focus on answering her questions? He reached for her breast, but she pushed his hand away.

“I have one more question for you.”

Hannah looked down and fiddled with a button on his shirt. She wasn’t just pretending to be serious now.

“Will you almost kill yourself over a case again?”

“Oh, Han…”

He wrapped his arms around her and held her close. He hoped he would never have to go through that again, but they both knew he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen. He caressed her hair for a little while, thinking this was the closest to admitting her fear of losing him she would ever come.

“I know I can count on you to set me straight if I’m getting in too deep,” he said.

Hannah cracked a smile and tilted her head back to kiss his jaw.

“Any more questions, Miss Baxter?”

“No.” She straightened up and slid her hands down his torso. She had that mischievous look on her face that redirected all his blood flow to his groin. He wasn’t kidding about her being his weakness. “I think it’s time for your endurance test now, Mr. Hardy.”


	5. the blackeye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anon asked how Hardy would react to seeing Hannah with a bruise.  
> I wanted to show how it depends on the status of their relationship.

**2008**

 

Hannah walked out of her client’s menswear shop, feeling rather dejected. Everything had to be perfect with him and no amount of red retro lingerie could make up for her bruised eye. Going back to her flat and sister was out of the question. She needed a little pick-me-up. Fortunately for her, she had a friend in town.

 

“Hey Alec! It’s me. Are you still up for that coffee? I just had a cancellation.”

“Er, yeah, sure. I have a lunch break at noon.”

“You’re still near St. James, right? We can meet at Benugo like last time.”

“Works for me.”

“Laters!”

 

Hardy spotted Hannah at the back of the café, in front of a large blackboard listing available beverages in elaborate script. She was reading a book, idly fiddling with her pearl bauble necklace. Some would say she was overdressed for the place, but the reality was that she stood out wherever she was.

 

Hannah looked up from the page and smiled when she saw him. She stood up to peck his cheeks. Her light floral perfume mingled with the smell of roasted coffee beans.

 “How long are you in town for?” she asked.

“I’m going back so Sandbrook tomorrow.”

“Already?”

She pouted which did wonders for his ego. Perhaps Tess wasn’t entirely wrong in saying that this friendship was the symptom of an early mid-life crisis. Regardless, he enjoyed Hannah’s company.

 

He grabbed a cappuccino at the counter then sat across from Hannah. She started talking about her sister staying with her, but Hardy couldn’t focus. A dark ring around her left eye distracted him. Was it a bruise or simply the shadow of her strategically-placed fringe?”

“What?” she asked.

He reached for her face across the table, and swiped her fringe to the side. A black-eye.  His stomach dropped. “What happened?”

 She considered lying then. She really did. Let him think it was a client or a pimp, see what he would do about it. She hadn’t known Alec Hardy for very long but she knew he would defend her. And sometimes, for all her strength and independence, it’s what she longed for: A knight in shining armor.

“My sister punched me. She didn’t take kindly to my saying she treats her husband like a pet— which she really does, by the way.”

“Your sister?”

“Yeah. Sister. Not my pimp.”

“You sure? That why you called me?”

“I’m sure. Don’t worry.”

“Do you want to press charges?”

“No. Alec, can we drop this now? It already cost me a client today.”

“You should put ice on that.”

“It’ll make my mascara run.”

Neither of them said more on the subject. Hannah rubbed a lipstick stain off her mug, then reclined in her chair and gave him the once-over. “I want to know about your black eye.”

“Wha’? I don’t—“

“Tell about me about a fight you got in.”

 Her gaze challenged him, and he thought of cavemen who had to prove their superiority over other males to win the female. And although, he couldn’t “win” her, he sort of wanted to try. She smirked when he unconsciously puffed up his chest and raised his chin. Fights were not exactly a rare occurrence in his line of work, but he chose to tell her about his year 8 bully instead. The one who made his life a living hell. The one Alec had outgrown during the summer and punched square in the face on the first day of year 9.

“I had height on him, but I didn’t know how to fight. He fought back, gave me a mean black eye, but he never bothered me again.”

“Who knew Alec Hardy was a little bum?”

Hardy laughed. “I… I’d asked my mum’s permission the day before.”

“Aaaww.”

 “I arrested his father not long after I was out of the academy… he was a bad man.”

 

Hardy’s free time was over too quickly. They exited the coffee shop together and paused on the sidewalk since they were going in different directions after.

Hardy put his hands in his pockets and glanced at her bruised eye. “Will it be all right with your sister?”

“Yeah… unless you’re offering me a place to spend the night? In your hotel room, maybe?”

She fiddled with his tie. She couldn’t help it. He shook his head.

“You have too much self-control,” she whined.

“It’s not a bad thing, Hannah.”

She released his tie and lowered her gaze. “No, you’re right.”

He squeezed her shoulder. The only touch he allowed himself. “Call me.”

“If I need anything, yeah, I know.”

“Even if you don’t need anything.”

So much for self-control, he thought.

 

 

**2015**

 

When Hardy came back from work, Hannah was in the kitchen, holding ice over her eye.

“Your sister again?” he joked.

“Yoga accident. I fell on my own fist.”

She held up a yoga instruction DVD which he grabbed out of her hand and threw away.

“Bad yoga.”

Hannah laughed. “You’re my hero,” she said with a mock-dreamy sigh.

 

“Lemme see.”

She removed the ice, tilting her head back for inspection.

“How bad does it look?” she asked.

 “Awful,” he joked.

 She gave him a sad puppy dog look. He gently pecked her eyebrow, nose tip and the corner of her eye.

“Better?”

“Better. I think I have a black lip too, maybe you should…” She pursed her lips.

He laughed as he kissed her.


	6. the award ceremony

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hannah's book is nominated for an award and Hardy goes with her to the gala.

The _Commonwealth Books of the Year Award_ s, may not be as glamourous as the Oscars, but the Guildhall theater and the crowd were still rather impressive. Hannah bit back an excited squeal at the sight of her favourite novelist in the lobby. She grabbed Hardy’s hand and squeezed it, perhaps a little too hard. He just smiled. He’d been looking at her funny all day— good funny, but still unusual. He didn’t even make a fuss about buying a new suit for the event and he barely rolled his eyes when she called it an “investment piece” because she was bound to get nominated for other awards.

“What?” she asked as his eyes lingered on her. He only tugged her closer and kissed her temple. Hannah blamed it on her dress: floor-length and strapless and in that shade of blue he liked on her.

 

The ceremony started and Hannah’s nervousness increased. It didn’t help that her friends and family texted her every two minutes for updates. After a while, Hardy took charge of replying, texting back with one hand while the other traced soothing circles over her arm.

“For the first time this year, the _Commonwealth Books of the Year Awards_ has an ‘adult fiction and erotica’ category.” 

Although this had already been announced, a murmur ran through the attendees. As the presenter explained the necessity and value of this new category, Hannah reminded herself that being nominated was an honor in itself.

“And the winner is… _The Price of Lust_ by Hannah Baxter.”

It wasn’t until Hardy gave her a little push that she realized she had actually won. Hannah had never been short on confidence, but still hadn’t believe she would win. She walked to the stage in a haze and managed to blurt out a few thanks.

“To Tamsin, my editor, for believing in me, to my friends Ben and Bambi for their encouragements, and my father too. And Alec, my partner… partner in everything really.”

She returned to her seat, cradling the quill-shaped glass trophy against her chest.

“I can’t believe it,” she said.

“You deserve it,” Hardy answered. And there was that look in his eyes again: a soft kind of awe.

He’d been with her through it all, not just the actual writing, but through doing it under her real name and finally stitching back together all her selves. 

 

As the limo slithered through the damp streets of London, Hannah unbuckled her seat belt. Hardy watched, bemused, as she slid to his side to sit across his lap.

“What are you doing?”

“Getting what I deserve,” she replied, guiding his hand under her dress.


	7. When a dinner isn't just a dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set during S3 of Broadchurch.

Hardy returned home, his mind still deep into Trish Winterman’s case. That wall-long list of potential suspects seemed imprinted behind his eyelids. He was so preoccupied, when he entered the house, he didn’t notice Hannah standing by the dinner table.

She cleared her throat.

The silk of her purple dress shimmered in the candlelight. There was an opened bottle of wine and cloth napkins. Only then did he smell tomato sauce and cheese. Hannah crossed her ankles and worried her bottom lip.

“Hey, so I… I cooked you dinner.” She laughed nervously. “Daisy’s at a friend’s place.”

Hardy’s stomach dropped. His throat tightened.

“Alec? You alright?”

He sat down on the couch and pulled at his tie. “I know this isn’t what you expected when you came to Broadchurch. This case— I know I’m working too much. But, please, Han.”

“What are you on about?” She stepped in front of him and cupped his cheek.

“Don’t leave just yet. Please.” He looked up at her, his brown eyes wide and vulnerable.

She dropped her hand. “What? I cooked you dinner and you think I’m breaking up with you?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No!”

“Why d’you make me dinner for, then?”

“To be nice.”

“Well, you gotta admit it’s not like you.”

“It’s not like me to be nice?” She crossed her arms on her chest.

“You know what I mean.” He groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. Thank you.”

“It’ll be ready in five minutes.”

“You really cooked?”

“I put a lasagna in the oven, that’s sort of like cooking?”

Hardy cracked a smile and pulled Hannah by the waist to sit her down in his laps. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight.

“I made the salad, cut tomatoes and cucumber and everything. You really thought I was leaving you?”

He pulled his head away from the crook of her neck to look at her face, he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Hannah kissed him.

“It’s happened before,” he said. “And the candles and the wine.”

“Looks like I’m trying too hard?” She fiddled with his tie. “I guess, it’s not just to be nice.”

Hardy cocked an eyebrow.

“I’ve felt like… like you were slipping away from me, because of the case, you know. I thought I’d try something different.” She shrugged.

“Different from running off?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

“Maybe I should try something different too.”

“Working less?”

“Can’t promise anything.”

“I know. I understand.”

She smiled in a way she hoped conveyed her honesty. She could just as intense with her own work. She’d neglected him a lot while writing her latest book.

The oven timer rang.

“Hungry?” Hannah asked.

She stood up from his lap, but he caught her wrist before she walked away.

“Thank you, Hannah.”

“It’s only lasagna.”

“I mean thank you for… being in my life.”


End file.
